


Poison in his Heart

by thetinymouse



Category: GreedFall (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Grief/Mourning, Minor Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, References to Depression, SELF INDULGENT OK, Slow Burn, maybe?????
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:21:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetinymouse/pseuds/thetinymouse
Summary: De Sardet wishes against all hope that the choice she made in the Heart of the Mountain was the wrong one, and that she would one day be able to take Consantin's hand again.
Relationships: Constantin d'Orsay/De Sardet
Kudos: 9





	1. One

She could feel her heart slowly splinter with each viscous drop of blood that ran down her hand. Her eyes stared near unseeing into the distance, chin resting onto a rapidly cooling shoulder. A shuddering breath left her slowly as she clenched trembling fingers around the hilt of the knife currently stuck in Constantin’s guts before she gently extricated it from his body, hand then encircling him to bring him into her embrace as they both fell to their knees.

No longer could she feel his shaky breaths leave him, no longer could she feel any warmth in his arms – never again would she hear his voice, laugh along with him, hold him when happy and cry with him when sad.

Never again would she be able to simply enjoy being in Constantin’s presence because she had committed the most grievous offence she could imagine, and had taken his life to save the thousands of people on the island as if that was a fair compromise for her to deal with.

Hands clenching into the back of his coat, she buried her face into his neck, silent sobs wracking her body as she clutched Constantin, her dearest friend, close. Guilt and despair intermingled in her very soul at the knowledge that she was the reason for his death – indeed the orchestrator of it, however unwilling.

If only she’d found a real cure, if only she’d been quicker, if only she’d realised the treachery that surrounded her from the start, if only she’d never allowed him to drink that wretched mixture when they’d first arrived!

De Sardet could feel a wail build in her chest and fight its way up her throat but she clenched her teeth to keep it caged – somehow, in the silence that had settled after her ordeal fighting the _Nádaig_ and then turning the knife Constantin had offered her on him, she felt that any noise she’d make would break her.

For who knew how long, she could only shake in misery as she held him close, unable to let go long enough to see his face slack in death, his eyes clouded and vacant, and see finally that what she now held was only a shadow of what he had previously been, even after the Malichor had taken hold of him.

Long she held him, barely moving from her slumped position, until suddenly she could hear footsteps coming towards her, the noise of rustling armour and weapons accompanying whoever it was. Dimly she thought that they were coming to finish the job so many had previously tried to do, perhaps stab her in the back as she’d stabbed Constantin in his front, or cut her throat, or perhaps even shoot her. She could only hope.

It would be what she deserved after what she’d done.

“De Sardet!”

Slowly, she moved her head tilting it in the direction the voice came from. Her companions who’d been fighting against the beasts summoned by Constantin were now approaching her. She knew she should be happy to see them all hale and mostly whole, with what seemed to be only superficial injuries littering their bodies, yet nothing seemed to penetrate the thick fog of despair that had settled over her. And again, she knew that there was much work ahead of her, she had to see which of her allies yet lived, find out the damage done by the fighting and start the reparations of everything caused by the actions of a man she still could not fathom had fallen into the madness he had.

With a shaky breath, de Sardet slowly unfurled herself from Constantin’s body and gently laid him down, settling his hands on his chest and closing the eyes she’d so loved, turned dark from sickness and death. With one last hand passing over his jaw, gently moving up to his cheek and straightening a stray piece of hair back, de Sardet stood to greet her friends.

The first to meet her was Síora, who wrapped her arms around her and held tight. No words were exchanged between the two women, only shared sorrow and sympathy were present. A hand settled on her shoulder and she peeked sideways at Petrus, who only gave her a grim and sad look.

With one last squeeze around Síora, de Sardet turned to the others, all silent at her grief. She tried for a shaky smile, hands reaching forward to hold theirs in turn, before she tried to regain some of her diplomat’s mask and finally spoke.

“We will need to return him to New Sérène and start preparing for his burial.”

Vasco frowned, “Will the others even agree to it? I hate to say it de Sardet, but Constantin is the reason many are dead and they might not want to give him his due, even as a noble.”

De Sardet bared her teeth at him, “I could not care less for what they want. After all I have done for these people, after all I have given, they will allow me this.” She looked them all in the eyes, “Constantin will be returned, and I will prepare to leave for the continent with him.”

“ _Carants_!” Síora said, aghast. “You would leave your _mátir_ ’s land?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” asked de Sardet. “I have little left here. The Governors of Saint Matheus and Hikmet yet live, they can care for their own cities, and the _Yecht_ _Fradí_ have no need for a _renaígse_ such as I.”

“But you still have Slán, your _mátir_ ’s sister! Would she not welcome you in her home?”

“Perhaps; but Síora, I have no wish to stay in the place where I had to kill the person most dear to me.” De Sardet went quiet for a moment, turning to look at Constantin where he lay in the middle of the open space, the tree of _En on míl frichtimen_ looming over him.

No longer could she hear the voice of the mountain, though she was unsure she even wanted to – she may have chosen to save all she could but for the one she had to sacrifice and made allies of all that lived on the island no matter past issues, yet no joy could be found in her heart at what she had managed to accomplish.

She turned back to her companions, “Please, I ask that you help me carry him back.” She shut her eyes, feeling tears threatening to fall. “ _Please_.”

Kurt stepped up to stand at her side, hand moving to squeeze at her shoulder, “You don’t need to ask Green Blood. We’ll of course help you.”

Aphra nodded, “We’ll fashion a way to carry him, though we might need to ask the Natives to help us get back to the city.”

“I will go and find us help, _Carants_. I will not be long.” Síora held her hand for a bit before she left towards the entrance of _Credhenes_ in search of aid.

\---

Convincing the Natives to help them transport the person who’d nearly killed what was essentially their god ended up being harder than expected, though she should have realised what exactly she was asking of them. Thankfully, Síora managed to talk a few into lending them a cart and mount their merchants normally used to move their goods between clans, and they were finally on their way back to New Sérène.

The journey would take over a day, a long time for her to stare at the cold body of a man she’d grown up with and ended up having to sacrifice for the good of the nations of the island, or so she’d been told to do. They’d wrapped him in linens, yet she could still make out the slope of his nose, the shape of his hands, and every time she looked at him, she wanted to weep. Truthfully, she could only regret her choice, regret not taking Constantin’s hand and – and what? Rule this island with him? Kill a _god_ and become one herself? How foolish.

And yet…

Given the chance, could she really tell herself she wouldn’t choose the other option and doom thousands of people to death just so she could have more time with Constantin? See him thrive as he ruled over the island she was born of?

Such thoughts were dangerous, no matter how impossible, and de Sardet had to work at keeping them at bay. They would give her nothing but misery if she let herself drown in them.

Finally, after lengthy hours of travelling that crawled as slowly as the sun moved across the limpid sky, they arrived at the northern entrance to New Sérène where Coin Guards were amassing to greet their arrival. Unburdened as they’d been, the Guard and all those who’d fought in the battles for Tír Fradí had returned to their homes on the island as soon as the fighting had stopped. Though some had fallen, it seemed that not many had.

Commander Sieglinde stood at the front of the crowd and nodded at de Sardet as she approached.

“Legate.”

No more words were said as the Commander spared a look at their cargo before she turned to the rest of her men, singling out a platoon.

“Guards! Escort the lady de Sardet and her companions to the palace. The rest of you, continue clean up and help those who need it.”

Once the last stragglers had left, she looked back at de Sardet and bowed her head, “My condolences, my lady. If it pleases, Captain Kurt will continue to guard you until he is no longer needed at your side.”

De Sardet nodded in thanks, “Thank you Commander. I understand many things need to be addressed, and I will help where I can once I have things in order.” She pointedly did not mention what things exactly she meant, avoiding looking behind her to the wrapped-up corpse of the governor of the very city they were about to enter.

She turned to her companions, “Kurt, I will need you to find Lady Morange, and Aphra, if you could get the doctors once at the palace, I’d be thankful. We need to be quick before his body rots.”

Trying to ignore the horror of her own words, she continued, “I need to start preparations for my return to Sérène, so we will need to find Monsieur de Courcillion as well. Vasco, when can we set sail at the earliest?”

Sighing, Vasco looked at de Sardet, chewing on his lip as he deliberated, “I will need to check with the Admiral but after all that you have done for us, I do not see it being longer than a few days.”

De Sardet nodded once again, “Perfect, then I will have time to get things in order beforehand.”

Her companions shared a look. Petrus went first, “My child, are you truly certain you wish to return to the mainland? There are many things here that need doing still, and as Síora mentioned, your mother’s sister would gladly take you in.”

“Perhaps, but I wish to take Constantin back to his family. They might not have enjoyed each other’s presence, but the Prince should still be made aware of what happened, and Constantin should be buried within the ancestral tomb.” She frowned, “Also, it is high time the people here take care of their own problems.”

“If that is your wish, my child, then we will make it so.”

Smiling weakly at Petrus, de Sardet looked to the Coin Guards patiently waiting for them to start making their move to the palace.

“Come,” she said. “Let us make haste. There are many things that need to be done before I leave.”

\---

Staring out at the sea, de Sardet was once again clouded by doubt at her choices as she’d been for the last few months now – not just of what she had chosen at the Heart of the Mountain, but also if returning to the continent was the right idea. Truthfully, and no matter how much she would miss her friends, she could not stand to spend one more day on that island.

After learning that her mother had been a Native, she had so wanted to learn all she could about Tír Fradí and its people, their culture and language. With Síora’s help she’d immersed herself as much as she could with how busy running around the place she was, absorbing all she could of what her friend taught her of their people.

The language had been slow going, but something at the back of her mind had seemed to thrive with it, some small part of her realising that this was meant to be her mother tongue. While nowhere near fluent, de Sardet was quite proud to have mastered more than just he basics of the language. The culture itself was so rich and wonderful, along with many of its people, and she would truly, dearly miss them.

Síora had decided to return home to her village of _Vedrhais_ and to Eseld, her sister, to help High King Dunncas with rebuilding what had been lost. De Sardet would mourn the fact she could not truly live where her mother had come from, but staying simply was not possible after what she had done.

No matter how much the governors of San Matheus and Hikmet made her want to tear at her hair, their representatives within her group of friends would be missed as well. Petrus and Aphra seemed to have been the best and brightest of both Thélème and the Bridge Alliance. Thankfully, both had decided to return to their respective factions to ensure order and peace remained between them and the Natives before they would go on to do what they wished.

Kurt had gone back to the Garrison to help Commander Sieglinde clean up the last of Egon’s mercenaries and those who still thought to meddle in things they shouldn’t. De Sardet knew that her old friend and mentor would make sure that no one tried to disrupt what she had built between all the factions on the island. Mr de Courcillion and Lady Morange were also now in charge of New Serene, and she was sure that together they would ensure diplomacy ruled over the cities, not violence and greed.

The Nauts themselves, though they had not participated in the final battle, had decided to keep a presence on the island to ensure travel between it and the continent. Though they had not suffered severe losses, they still had to make sure the ports would be able to run smoothly and that trade kept coming into the island to resupply those who needed it.

Vasco, whose ship had been returned to him and who was now sailing her back to the mainland, stepped up beside her. Both now looked towards the horizon where the dark grey fog that always surrounded the city of Serene was becoming more and more visible, a product of the bonfires used to burn the plague-riddled bodies of the dead.

The months of travel had been long for de Sardet, knowing that the corpse of her dear Constantin lay embalmed in a coffin in the cargo hold, waiting for them to arrive so he could be properly buried and laid to rest.

Sleep evaded her most nights, as could be seen by the dark circles under her eyes, and her appetite had all but vanished leaving her looking much thinner than was healthy. The muscles she’d gained by fighting for her life on the island had all but gone, fat and muscle slimming down to nothing. Her clothes near hung on her frame, and if a strong breeze happened to sweep past her when she stood on deck, she sometimes imagined herself sweeping along with it, weightless like a feather thrown into the air.

De Sardet sighed, arms coming to cradle herself in an effort to try and warm up, the cold of the sea breeze having seeped deep into her bones.

“I wonder if I made the right choice in coming back,” she admitted.

Vasco said nothing for a bit, hands coming to hold the railing in front of them. He turned to her, “I can not tell you whether it is the right choice or not. You will have to decide it for yourself.”

He raised a hand to her shoulder, “Just know that whatever you choose, be it staying or leaving, you have a ship and a captain waiting for you.”

She smiled at him, a small and brittle thing. “Thank you, Vasco. I might not know what to do after this, but I am thankful knowing that I have a friend waiting for me.”

Hip checking her gently, Vasco winked before he went back to work.

Soon, they would be in Sérène, and soon she would have to explain to the Prince d’Orsay and his wife just what exactly had happened to their only son.

De Sardet stared hard at the city slowly coming into view, dark smoke billowing up into darker clouds covering it like an ominous veil – she could not see this ending well.


	2. Two

Coming back to the city of Sérène was an ordeal and a half, even after all she’d experienced on Tír Fradí. Due to leaving on the first ship set to sea from the island, no word had been sent to the Prince d’Orsay and his wife to let them know of the death of their son; and so de Sardet had to prepare herself to stand in front of them and let them know of what had transpired during the long months away from the Continent.

Still grimy from a long voyage at sea with little possibility of a proper wash, and weakened by a cloak of depression that had sapped her strength day by day since they’d first left, de Sardet made her way from the port after letting Vasco know she’d return as soon as she could to see about what to do next.

Having borrowed some of Vasco’s ship-hands to help her transport Constantin, they slowly made their way to the palace. It had been many months since she’d last walked these streets, and she could only witness how little had changed – sickness was still prevalent, poverty awash in the dark alleys and the nobility turning a nose at it as if they themselves weren’t touched by the plague.

Truly, it felt like there would be nowhere for her to feel content and at peace – still there was much to do, people to help, things to fix. A never-ending job she was not sure she wanted to keep.

Their arrival at the palace set the whole place ablaze with gossip, and even before she’d made it to the great hall where the Prince and his wife were currently presiding, she was sure they’d heard that their niece was returning with the body of their dead son.

She could only imagine the welcome she was about to receive.

Standing in front of the large set of doors that now separated her from them, de Sardet took a deep, reassuring breath to try and steel herself for what was about to come. Knocking thrice with as steady a hand as she could manage, de Sardet waited for confirmation before stepping inside and moving to stand in front of the two seats at the end of the room.

“Your Highness, my Lady.” She bowed before them, unable to look them in the eyes.

“Stand, niece,” came the strong voice of the Prince.

Looking up, de Sardet was not surprised to see them with little sadness in their gaze. Always she would remember how Constantin had been treated poorly by them when growing up, and how they’d sent him to a far away island when he’d refused to conform to their demands. Even now, they could not seem to care that their heir had perished.

“Explain to us why you have come back, having failed your duty as legate and protector of the governor of New Sérène.” There was a pause, “Do you believe that we will excuse your failure?”

Clenching her teeth, de Sardet mustered up all the diplomacy teachings she could to stay calm.

“I have come to inform you of what happened on Tír Fradí, and to your son, your Highness. It is with regret that I bring the news of his passing, and though I know you care not for it, you have my deepest sympathies for the death of your son.”

A scoff came from the Lady sat next to the Prince; this was a woman she knew had tried several times to have Constantin assassinated when they were growing up. “You come back from that filthy island only to tell us of his death? Please, child, a letter would have sufficed.”

Anger now brewing within her like a storm, de Sardet struggled to keep her composure.

“I have also come to inform you of what has been learned of the Malichor and how to stop it, as well as all that happened on the island.” Here, she looked at the Prince, “I’m sure that you, _uncle_ , will be delighted to know that the dirty secrets of the Congregation remain mostly intact.”

A sneer took over the man’s face, “I see you’ve finally learned the truth, then. My sister was ever so hopeful you would, before she died.”

The callous way he delivered this piece of news, that her mother had indeed passed whilst she was away, struck like a physical blow. Though she’d known, rationally, that the woman who’d brought her up as her own could only have perished considering the late stage of her sickness before she’d left, she’d still hoped to be able to see her one last time.

“Regardless,” said de Sardet, “I have brought Constantin back to be buried in the ancestral tomb, like those before him, and to share of what happened.”

The Prince waved a hand at one of the attendants in the room, “Get someone to take care of his body and have him interred quickly, before his corpse putrefies the air.”

Once more de Sardet was aghast at how little they seemed to care.

\---

After a swift burial with little ceremony, de Sardet was brought once again in front of the Prince and his wife to explain all that had happened. Over the course of several long hours, with breaks for food and drink, she recounted what had transpired between the Old Nations and the Natives of the island, the greed and zealotry prevalent in the former and the righteous anger of the latter.

She told of the attempted coup of the Coin Guard, of the revelations of Saint Matheus, of the attempt by the treacherous Dr Asili to infect both herself and Constantin with the Malichor to study its effects, though it only worked on the latter. Here she had to explain that while she’d been fed the same concoction as him, she had her connection to the island, through her birth mother, to thank for her resistance.

She spoke of Constantin’s descent into madness due to the horrible pain that came with the plague, of her quest for a cure, of Catasach and his loyalty, and his ensuing death. She spoke of how Constantin was bonded to the spirits of the island to try and stop the spread of the sickness, how he tried to destroy the god of a thousand faces to save his own life, and how she had to kill him for all to survive.

Then, she explained that the reason for the existence of the Malichor was that over several hundreds of years they’d poisoned and destroyed the land of the Continent, which had then caused the plague that ravaged the population in consequence. The solution was simple, she said – ask the Natives of Tír Fradí for help and have them come to the mainland to use their magics in renewing the land and breathing life into it again. This, she said, would curb the spread of sickness and in time make it disappear entirely.

After she’d finished, they were well into the late hours of the evening, the fire burning in the fireplace reduced to smouldering coals. Slowly drinking from her glass, de Sardet observed the Prince and the Lady across from her. They’d asked few questions, mostly listening to her retelling of the events. Now, they were speaking in low voices with each other.

She took this time to pick at her plate of food, appetite still not returned yet with nothing else to do. Finally, they both turned to her.

“We will send for these Natives and ask them for help. Hopefully, they will work fast enough that the plague won’t take the rest of the population before they succeed.”

“Captain Vasco remained at port while I came here, I can ask him to return to Tír Fradí and speak with Síora, who is chief of her village. I’m sure she will be willing to send help.”

“Good. Now, while we understand you could not have stopped Constantin from catching the Malichor and that you obviously tried to cure him, you were still the one to kill him.”

De Sardet winced, both at the reminder of her actions and at what she knew was coming next.

“As such, for causing the death of your Lord you will be punished. While we cannot execute you, for you are still our niece in the eyes of the nobles, you committed a grave crime. For this, your sentence will be labour. Your abilities as a diplomat are obvious, and so you will be kept here, in charge of ensuring all runs smoothly.”

Frowning, de Sardet went to speak but stopped as the Prince raised a hand.

“You will not see your companions again, though letters will be allowed. You will stay and work to push the ideals of the Congregation first. You will never leave the Palace unsupervised, and all communication will be screened. You will work until your services are no longer required.”

Realising that this would be the best deal she would get, to work until she died, de Sardet simply nodded before standing and bowing before them.

“If you no longer need me, I shall retire to my room.”

The Prince waved her off, “Yes, yes. The servants have already cleaned it up and readied it for you. Work will start on the morrow.”

With one last bow, de Sardet made her way out of the sitting room and towards the wing where her bedchambers lay. She would have much to do in the morning after all.

\---

Over the next few weeks, de Sardet let herself get lost in the work she was made to do. The first morning, after writing several missives for Síora, Admiral Cabral, the Mother Cardinal and Governor Burhan which were then perused by a bored attendant before being sent off, she’d left the Palace with two Guards at her back to go speak with Vasco and ask him to return to the island when he could to deliver the letters.

She explained in low tones that she most likely would never be able to leave the city of Sérène any longer, she wished him farewell and asked him to give her well wishes to the rest of their friends. With a last embrace for his sister in arms, Vasco then went back to getting the ship ready for the two-month long voyage back to the island.

De Sardet knew it would be a while before she’d see him again, considering after the trip it would take time to convince the _màl_ to send their _doneigada_ to the mainland, and then the trip back had to be accounted for as well. She could not see it taking less than five months before anyone would be able to start helping stop the spread of sickness.

Sighing, de Sardet looked at the papers spread over her desk. It had now been near three months since she’d come back from Tír Fradí, and she’d not seen much outside of her chambers and office. While still luxurious, she knew a cage for what it was.

She’d done little but work tirelessly for the Prince and his wife, going over old laws and regulations, cleaning them up and rewriting them for approval. Her days consisted of poring over endless legal jargon she barely understood, trying to use what knowledge she’d learned to ensure no loopholes could be found by greedy merchants or unscrupulous nobles, and the people of the Nation could finally live decent lives.

Truthfully, she didn’t know what the Prince actually made of her suggestions, if he even read them or threw them in the fire without bothering. Yet with little else to do, de Sardet continued to work in an attempt to keep her mind too busy to stagnate and inevitably circle back to the awful memories that plagued her in the quiet moments.

She thankfully could still receive letters from her friends, and she’d been updated on what had happened since she’d left. Kurt had been promoted to the position of Advisor to Commander Sieglinde, and she knew he’d do a marvellous job of it. Petrus was now a Cardinal, as he’d worked towards for many years; Vasco, now an Admiral in his own right, commanded an entire fleet of ships though he still captained his own. Síora, _màl_ of her clan, was working with the other chiefs to ensure the island thrived once more and to keep relations with the Old Nations cordial and peaceful. Aphra had gone back to studying the flora and fauna of the island, and with the help of Dunncas’ clan was even writing a book, which she’d promised to send a signed copy of when finished.

Sitting back in her chair and feeling her spine crack worryingly due to having barely moved in the last few hours, de Sardet wondered if this smothering atmosphere would be all she’d know for the rest of her life. Whilst happy to see her friends thriving in the aftermath of what had happened, she could not see herself living much longer if she was being honest with herself. Still she barely ate and slept, her nights endlessly haunted by the ghost of the man she’d killed, remorse and grief keeping her awake until exhaustion pulled her under for a few blissful, stolen moments of nothingness.

Sometimes she’d sleep and wake with a scream caught in her throat, fighting against the sheets of her bed in her delirious attempts to escape her nightmares. Other times she’d lay still and stare out her window at the dark clouds covering the skies, wondering if she truly could continue as she was. She was slowly but surely wasting away.

Finally, there came the day when the first representatives of the clans arrived to Sérène, and she’d been allowed to leave the Palace under guard to go and greet them personally – though she honestly could not see herself managing some miraculous escape in her weakened state, and thought the guards superfluous. Still, they followed her down to the port, bored and mostly inattentive.

Greeting Vasco as he stepped off his ship, she knew she made for a frightful sight – her high cheekbones and normally slim face were now gaunt, her skin sickly in its pallor, eyes sunken and bruised from the lack of sleep, clothes hanging from her frame. Carefully, Vasco took her in his arms to embrace her and she relished in the warmth seeping from his frame into hers.

“Truly my friend, how are you?” he asked.

De Sardet could only give him a wan smile, “I am as good as I can be, Vasco. But please, let me greet the _doneigada_ that will be helping us.”

Turning back towards the ship after Vasco let her go, de Sardet was glad to see several Natives carefully walking down the gangplank towards them.

“ _Beurd tír to mad_ , and welcome,” she said. “I am so glad and thankful to see you here. We have many people eager to speak with you. I will guide you to your accommodations so please, follow me.”

With a squeeze at Vasco’s arm, she started making her way back to the palace, the _Yecht Fradí_ following her as they curiously looked at their odd surroundings. She could only imagine that they were glad to be back on land, no matter how dead it currently was.

\---

The Natives had thankfully been mostly well received and had started teaching their scholars and scientists what they knew about the relationship between Man, Nature, and Spirit. While many still wanted little to do with it, enough were interested to get things started. Plant life was coaxed to grow once again in gardens and greenhouses to start with, dilapidated buildings destroyed to make place for green spaces and soon, trees and flowers flourished in places where previously only sickness and death had reigned.

Barely five weeks after their arrival and already they could see differences in the population, new cases of the Malichor dropping to almost nothing and the most severe of cases finding themselves while not yet healed, with the pain greatly reduced and symptoms alleviated. The death toll began dropping as well, and soon the bonfires that had until now been lit day and night could finally be extinguished. The air, no longer fed by smoke and pestilence, was slowly purified by the greenery that had grown back, and one day the sun shone brightly from a clear blue sky, the first of hopefully many.

De Sardet gazed at it from her bedroom window as it rose slowly from the horizon, the reddish tints of sunrise morphing into soft pinks and oranges before settling into a beautiful azure that would stay for the rest of the day.

Somehow, she’d done it. She’d worked tirelessly to ensure that the Natives would be able to work and help, and that the help would be well received; and finally, it seemed like the Malichor would become but a nightmare of the past. Yet, all she could think was that it was too little, too late. Both her mother, even if not by birth, and Constantin, her dearest friend, had passed due to this sickness, either directly or indirectly.

Had Constantin not been infected with the Malichor, would he ever have tried to become a god to avoid the horrible fate that awaited him due to being sick? Would madness ever have turned him cruel towards his subjects, yet still so infinitely gentle and kind towards her, even near the end? Had Catasach not been killed, would he have been able to keep Constantin healthy enough to save him? So many possibilities not lived, and de Sardet could only wish for the one where she was happy back in New Sérène, in the land of her birth mother, Constantin healthy and sane at her side as they both worked towards a lasting peace between all inhabitants.

Closing her eyes, de Sardet inhaled the sweet, gentle morning air that reached her. She’d done what she could to help those that were left, and now, without a real purpose, she felt unmoored from reality. Her friends all were living as they wished, glad with the lot in life they’d managed to achieve, and she would never begrudge them their happiness.

Perhaps, she thought, it was time for her to get some happiness of her own. She would never be able to truly live a carefree life without Constantin by her side, so maybe it was time to see if the next one held what she wished for. She was so tired, she thought, her body barely clinging to life.

Walking over to her desk, de Sardet quickly penned a few notes to her friends, thanking them for everything and wishing them well, as well as a few letters to ensure her work continued in a manner she would approve of, though she knew not if this would even happen. She did not much care, if she was honest. She debated a visit to Constantin’s tomb, but she’d already said her goodbyes the previous evening, unsure she would wake the next morn with how weak she’d felt.

Finally, mind at peace, she turned back to her bed and laid down between the cool sheets, reclining comfortably against her pillows.

And so, as the sun continued its slow climb in the sky, rays of light shining into the room of the legate of the Congregation of Merchants, de Sardet closed her eyes and, so very weary yet hopeful, she breathed her last as sunny warmth caressed her face and the mark of her bond to her island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have some more of my purely self-indulgent story ~  
> how about them parents, right??? 
> 
> um, so when i write it's purely word vomit and i just run with it lol, which means stuff might not be super consistent..
> 
> enjoy!


	3. Three

Screaming awake from a nightmare was not what de Sardet thought would happen after she’d last closed her eyes. Writhing in her sweat-soaked bedsheets, she could hear herself howling in utter defeat – why, oh why was awake? Had she not given enough? Had she not deserved her final rest?

Agony worked itself through her body as she fought against the prison of her sheets.

Distantly she heard a door slam open and rapid footsteps approach her bed before strong, work-roughened hands gripped her arms and tried to keep her from further thrashing.

“Please me lady, calm yourself!”

De Sardet could barely hear the voice of one of the maids that worked in the wing, crying and screaming as she was at the fact she would have to continue on with this life.

“Please!” The voice came again, “You will wake your mother and she needs her rest!”

As if shot, de Sardet stilled, chest heaving in an attempt to draw breath as she struggled against panic and shock.

“My, my mother? What?”

Looking at the maid, she stared wide-eyed at a young woman who she now could recall had passed from the sickness whilst she’d been on Tír Fradí, yet who was now standing before her healthy as could be, and who was looking at her as if she’d gone mad – to be fair, with her howling and crying she must have been a sight.

“Yes, ma’am, your mother is still weak and is trying to rest.”

“How…? This is impossible,” de Sardet breathed, eyes still round as coins as she looked at the maid who was now helping her sit up and was extricating her from the mess she’d done of her bedsheets before moving to the fireplace and stoking the fire with a few new logs.

“What is, ma’am?”

“I, my mother, she is in her rooms?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Exhaling suddenly in surprise, de Sardet threw herself out of bed and near fell on her face. Legs trembling, she raised her nightgown to look at them, hands then going to the sleeves to push them up and stare at her arms. A healthy body seemed to stare back at her, no matter how wobbly she felt on her feet. Blinking, she decided to ignore the impossibility of sudden health after months of wasting away for now, and instead chose to make her way to her mother’s chambers.

Ignoring the cries of the maid about her state of dress, or undress as it were, de Sardet near ran to the door separating her from the rooms she had not been able to visit in her grief after the passing of her mother when she’d come back to Sérène. Hand trembling, she slowly pushed the handle down and let the door yawn wide open, the darkness inside only broken by a few candles burning low around the room, curtains drawn closed.

Silently, she stepped inside and as her eyes accustomed to the dark, she spied a figure resting in the bed.

A weak voice startled her, “Louisa, my dear, is that you?”

With a sob, Louisa de Sardet fell to her knees by the figure’s bedside, hands grasping at the covers over her mother as she collapsed forward to cry. A gentle hand laid on her head while she wept, stroking back the mess of her hair, before it moved to her chin and lifted it.

“Peace my child, what ails you so?”

Against all reason, her mother was somehow sitting in the bed in front of her, hands cupping her face with all the love she could muster. She could not understand how this was possible, could not comprehend what had allowed her mother to now stand before her after her death.

Throwing her arms around the woman who’d raised her, de Sardet wept into her mother’s fragile shoulder.

“Oh, sweet thing,” the ailing woman murmured. “Come here, join me.”

De Sardet moved to lie down next to her mother as she’d done many times as a child, arms wrapped tightly yet gently around her as she sobbed, pain and guilt leaking out of her with each tear shed. Her mother held her tenderly in turn, hand combing at her hair as she silently let her child rid herself of her terrors.

In time, de Sardet’s crying slowed and her shaky breaths evened out. Without her notice, someone had been by to stoke the fireplace and open the heavy curtains to let in the weak morning light. A pitcher of fresh water sat on the table by the bed, alongside two glasses and a small platter of fruits.

The Princess de Sardet gently encouraged her daughter to drink a bit, before both reclined against the mounds of pillows at the head of the bed.

“Will you tell me?” she asked of her daughter.

De Sardet remained quiet for a bit, before turning to look at the woman who she’d mourned for in what now seemed like another life.

“I dreamt of your death,” she started, “and the death of many others, including mine. I dreamt of violence, and hatred, and of a beautiful island with wonderful people. I dreamt of enemies and of allies, of friends and dear companions. I dreamt…” she paused.

“I dreamt of a god with a thousand faces, each more beautiful and more deadly than the last. I dreamt that deep in the heart of the mountain, it asked me to take the life of the one most important to me, and that I did it.” A shuddering breath left her.

Her mother stroked her cheek calmly, clouded eyes trying to see through the sickness that plagued them and gaze upon the face of her daughter. “I do not know by what divine will you have seen all these things my dear, but I am thankful to have you here with me now.”

De Sardet shook her head, “Mother, I found it. I found the cure.” Looking up, she stared at the Princess, “I found the cure, and yet I could not save you or, or Constantin…”

She could feel tears well up again in her eyes, and was mildly tired with how much she’d wept recently when normally she managed to refrain from doing so, no matter how dark her mood.

“I know how to save everyone, yet I will never be able to do it in time.”

‘To save you’ was left unsaid.

The Princess gazed at the woman she’d brought up, “Whether or not you can save me is not important my child, only that you do what you can with the knowledge you possess.” Hand coming back to comb de Sardet’s hair, she continued, “You will be leaving for Teer Fradee in a few days, and we will say our goodbyes then.”

De Sardet startled, “In a few days? But –”

Her mother rapped her gently on the head in reprimand, “The Prince has asked that you accompany his son to the island where he will become the new Governor, and so it will be. You will do your duty, and if what you have been shown should help you in your endeavours, then you will use it.”

\---

Leaving her mother’s rooms a bit later to let her get ready for the day, de Sardet ambled as if in a daze back towards her own bedchambers so she could get out of her nightgown and into clothes more fitting for being among others.

Someway, somehow, what she had experienced seemed to be but a dream, a dream of what was now both her future and her past. She was to leave in three days for the island of Tír Fradí to take up her newly appointed post of Legate, as if she had never been before, as if what she’d experienced had never happened.

Still confused yet oddly grateful to have seen her mother once more, a spark of hope lit itself in her chest. Could she possibly, truly have managed to make her way back to a time in the past? Had the Spirits of the land allowed her one more chance? Was she being shown another option than what had come to be?

Warmth spreading in her breast, she rushed to change into an outfit appropriate to her station; comfortable trousers, blouse, and coat were hurriedly adorned before a comb was put through her still messy hair which was then quickly braided to be kept out of her face.

Staring at herself in the mirror above her vanity, she saw that the hollowness she’d seen encroach on her body was now gone and she was back to a physically healthy self. The cloud of depression she’d felt for over half a year was slowly letting up, sunshine peeking through the dark cover and warming her slowly from the inside out.

Taking a deep breath, de Sardet thought about what she could possibly do. Would she be able to stop Constantin from becoming afflicted with the Malichor? She dearly hoped so. A matter for later, the first thing she decided she would do would be to find him and embrace him within an inch of his life.

Hopefully, she wouldn’t weep again.

Exiting her rooms, de Sardet deliberated on where Constantin could possibly be at this hour. It was yet early in the morning, and he tended to like sleeping in as long as he was allowed. Yet, they would be leaving for Tír Fradí in a few days and from what little she could recall of this time over a year in the past – and yet that was also happening right this moment, the days preceding the voyage had been extremely busy rushing to get everything ready.

Then, hearing the clash of swords and cries of exertion from the courtyard, she realised where exactly her cousin was. Making a dash for the stairs, running past maids and visiting nobles alike, de Sardet flew into the courtyard and crashed into the blond figure currently trying to lazily evade Kurt’s slashes and parries, tumbling the both of them into the ground several times before they came to a stop.

Face squished against Constantin’s chest and arms wrapped tightly around him, she didn’t say a word as she heard him complain about the impact of both herself with him and then the two of them with the ground. Ignoring the smell of sweat that lingered on his training shirt, she simply squeezed harder.

A groan, “Well my lucky star, I do not feel so lucky right now,” Constantin wheezed out. One hand going to rub at the back of his head and the other used to push himself up, he peered down at her in slight consternation and worry. Still, she refused to move, eyes burning with unshed tears as she relished in the feeling of him warm and whole in her arms.

“Come now cousin, what’s happened?”

Kurt interjected, obviously growing annoyed at what seemed to be the most recent shenanigan of his two students, “You’re late, Green Blood. Now get off him and get ready for your lesson.”

Taking a steadying breath, de Sardet sat back on his lap as she looked Constantin in the face for the first time since what felt like too long ago. Dark hazel eyes met the confused golden ones of her dearest friend, and she couldn’t help the large smile that split her face.

“Constantin, I have missed you.”

Bewildered, Constantin could only watch her as she stood before taking the hand she offered and getting up himself. Looking at her curiously as he dusted himself off, he smiled.

“Why Louisa, I didn’t know my presence was so cherished that you would miss me so from one day to the next!”

De Sardet laughed, something she felt she hadn’t done in so long and now felt relieved to be able to do again, and swatted at his arm. “Please Constantin, it’s that ugly mug of yours I missed, I needed to see it to remind myself of how pretty I am compared to you,” she jeered jokingly back.

Squawking in outrage, Constantin dropped the sword he’d just picked up and tackled her back to the ground. The two cheerfully tussled, exchanging mocking repartees as Kurt fumed in the background, growing angrier by the second, other Coin Guard soldiers pausing in their training to watch the latest mischievous behaviour of the Heir and his cousin.

Moving swiftly, the Coin Guard reached down and grabbed them both by their collars and hoisted them up.

“Enough!” He barked at them, shaking them as if misbehaving pups. “If you can brawl like street rats, you can do it properly with swords instead!”

Chastised, the two still winked at each other as they both went to get their weapons, Constantin from where he’d dropped it, and de Sardet from one of the racks in the courtyard.

Wild glee was building in her chest at having Constantin in front of her again, and she couldn’t wait to trounce him in training.

\---

Kurt had them train for hours to make up for both her lateness and their misbehaviour, and it was both sweaty and tired that the two made their ways to the bathing chambers to clean up.

“Say Louisa, have you been practicing more often than usual? I swear I saw you use moves Kurt has never taught us.”

De Sardet chuckled, “Ah, perhaps I have been, in my dreams.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You make no sense.”

Chortling, Constantin took a swipe at her head, “What has you in such a cheeky mood?” he asked. “Is it our upcoming trip that has you so excited?”

At the reminder that they would be leaving the continent in a few days, and that she would not see her mother again, her expression sobered up.

“Ah,” said Constantin upon witnessing her turn of mood. “Perhaps not.”

De Sardet sighed as they entered the bathing area, sitting on one of the plush chairs available in the room, motioning for him to join her. The way the room had steamed up, they could both afford a few moments before their respective bath waters cooled.

Silently, Constantin sat next to her, waiting for her to speak.

“I don’t know how to explain it, but last night’s dream has left me on edge. I cannot recall much, and it is growing dimmer by the hour that passes, yet much is still crystal clear.”

She looked at him, raising a hand to his cheek and cradling it gently. Constantin let her, head tilting slightly into her hold as he watched her carefully.

“I saw you,” she breathed. “I saw you sick with Malichor after being poisoned with it, and I saw it drive you mad.” Closing her eyes, she continued, “I saw your death.”

She felt Constantin quake in her hand, and she opened her eyes to gaze at him solemnly.

“I will not let it happen again, Constantin. This I promise on the land of my mother and her kin.”

His hand came to gently take hers away from his face, yet he only brought it between them and held it firmly in his. He seemed unsure of what to say, thumb caressing her palm, words escaping him as he searched for a way to speak about the fact that she had witnessed his death in this nightmarish scenario.

“I cannot say if what you saw has happened, in another life perhaps, or if it even will, but Louisa, I will always do my utmost to make sure that you are happy.”

Smiling at him, de Sardet reached over and embraced him with all her strength, near melting as he in turn tucked her against him, shielding her from the rest of the world. They sat quietly for a moment, before Constantin twitched.

“Wait, the land of your mother and kin? What do you mean?”

“Ah. I’d forgotten you were not aware yet.”

Standing, de Sardet went behind the partition separating their baths to begin undressing, piling her hair on top of her head and tying it back with a cloth, before she carefully stepped into the tub. Not heeding Constantin’s whines at having to wait for answers as he went to ready himself for his own bath, she spoke, “I’ve found out that the Princess de Sardet is not my birth mother, though she raised me like her own child.”

A loud splash interrupted her, as well as sudden coughing, and she could only imagine that Constantin had slipped and fallen under the warm water in his shock at the news.

Chuckling, she waited until the coughing subsided before asking if he was alright.

“Yes, yes, I’m perfectly fine!” came the reply in a near squeak of a voice. “You mean to tell me that –”

“I’m not your fair cousin? Indeed,” de Sardet laid back in her bath, enjoying the warmth that surrounded her, and rested her neck against the small towel sat at the end of the tub specifically for this purpose.

“It seems that my birth mother was a Native to the island we are to depart for soon, and she is the reason for the mark on my face. It is something the Natives sometimes have, as a sign of their bond to nature and the spirits of the land.”

Little noise came from the other side of the partition, and she let Constantin reflect on what she’d just revealed to him.

“What about your father?” he finally asked.

“My father was a member of her clan, killed when she was taken,” she said. “I was born at sea and my mother died in childbirth. A man who’d befriended her brought me to the Princess de Sardet and asked that she find a family for me. Instead, she raised me as her own.”

The sound of cascading water was her only warning before the partition between her tub and Constantin’s was whipped to the side and she saw much more naked skin than she could possibly handle at once.

Shrieking, she slapped her hands to her eyes, cheeks aglow with mortification as she brought her knees up to cover her chest. Thankfully the tub was deep enough and the water murky with cleansing soaps and oils that little could be seen of her own nudity bar her shoulders.

“Constantin!” she yelped.

“Yes, yes, sorry, I’ve got a towel now.”

Refusing to look, de Sardet only shook her head as she tried to disappear into her knees, embarrassment turning her a shade of red she’d never before achieved.

A hand took hers and tried to pry it off her face and she squealed, eyes clenched shut as she tried to bat away the naked madman at her side.

“Oh, come now, you’ve seen it all before!”

“When we were children!”

“Oh fine, don’t look at me, just listen.”

She hesitated a moment before she nodded slightly.

“Good,” a sigh. “I don’t know how you found all of this out, but it doesn’t matter. You are my dearest Louisa, my lucky star, and I will always love you, cousin or no.”

De Sardet stayed quiet for a bit, before trying to grab at his hand, and once he’d taken it in his, she brought his hand to her lips and gently kissed his knuckles in thanks before she waved him off back to his bath.

“Please finish washing yourself,” she said. “We still have preparations to make for the trip.”

“Of course, my fair Louisa, anything for you.”

Once she heard the splash of bathwater again, she dared relax from her balled up posture and peeked from between her fingers. With the partition still on the floor, nothing was in the way of her being able to see the other tub and Constantin, chin in hand against the side, gazing at her with a wide, cheeky smile.

Howling in righteous fury, she grabbed the towel she’d used for resting her neck and hurled it straight at his face.

“Constantin!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here i am, back on my bs..
> 
> so again, this entire thing is super self indulgent, and will have moments of "huh, this doesnt seem in character" but you know what? fiction allows me this, and so i will bask in it   
> oh, and let's ignore the actual possibilites of such bathrooms, mkay?
> 
> hope u enjoyed, pretties :)


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